Kludged Together
by Veldeia
Summary: When he cut his morning jog short to join Tony Stark on a reconnaissance mission off the East Coast, Steve sure wasn't expecting to end up stuck on a life raft in the middle of the ocean, his hand knuckle-deep in Stark's chest.
1. Jogging

This story takes place soon after the first Avengers movie, with our heroes still getting to know each other. The first draft is already complete (7 chapters, around 14 000 words), but I'm editing, proofreading and posting it one chapter at a time.

 **What to expect:** the author shamelessly indulging her obsession with all things arc reactor related!

 **What not to expect:** any amount of medical or technical accuracy. (Which mainly means I keep details vague and take some creative liberties with how the arc reactor works, but meh, since it's never that specific in canon anyway, what else can you do, really?)

* * *

 **Noun**

 **kludge** (plural _kludges_ )

1\. ( _electronics engineering_ ) An improvised device, usually crudely constructed. Typically used to test the validity of a principle before doing a finished design.

2\. ( _general_ ) Any construction or practice, typically inelegant, designed to solve a problem temporarily or expediently.

3\. ( _computing_ ) An amalgamated mass of totally unrelated parts forming a distressing whole.

 **Verb**

 **kludge** ( _third-person singular simple present_ **kludges** , _present participle_ **kludging** , _simple past and past participle_ **kludged** )

1\. To build or use a kludge.

(Wiktionary)

* * *

Stark has pulled out the arc reactor.

This has to count among the most disturbing sights Steve Rogers has witnessed, and he's seen some pretty horrific things in his life.

The moment seems to stretch on and on, giving Steve more than enough time to marvel at the empty metallic cavity in Stark's chest. He had no idea of the depth of it. Hell, it's big enough that someone smaller than Steve could probably fit their entire hand in there!

Steve has read Stark's file, of course, even though it's longer than anyone else's on the team – as Howard Stark's son and every bit as intelligent, inventive and irresponsible as his father, he'd been a person of interest to SHIELD long before he became Iron Man. But although most of his file is detailed and seems uncensored (like Agent Romanoff's not too flattering Avengers recruitment report), the paragraph about the arc reactor is brief. The reactor has to do with his heart, is critically important to his survival, and should it ever happen that he's unconscious and there's reason to suspect that it's damaged, they need to contact Pepper Potts or JARVIS the AI right away.

Fortunately, Stark isn't unconscious, because it very much seems like the arc reactor is damaged, and they have no means to contact anyone. Most likely no one's even figured out anything is wrong, yet.

Stark is studying the device, turning it this way and that, uncharacteristically quiet, his face scrunched up in intense concentration, or pain, or both. The electric blue glow, as bright as ever, casts odd shadows in the otherwise dim light under the orange canopy. Seawater is dripping from Stark's soaking wet hair and the sleeves of his undersuit. Every now and then, a droplet spatters to the floor of their life raft with a soft plop.

Steve gazes out through the doorway. Although the sky is clearing up, the thick mist and the dark clouds mostly dispersed, the view is depressing. Nothing but sea, gently rolling waves, and even more sea, all the way to the horizon, with the odd piece of wreckage floating here and there. Not a sign of anything living, aside from a solitary sea bird circling so high above that someone with ordinary eyesight might not even notice it. The air smells of salt and ozone.

They're very much on their own out here, in the vast expanse of the Atlantic.

* * *

It wasn't an official call to Assemble, but a simple text message from Stark, telegraph-like in its brevity:

preTower, asap. Potential Goldilocks sighting, need to investigate./pre

That was enough for Steve to decide less than halfway through his jog that he'd just skip the rest of it and head to the Avengers Tower, taking the quickest route he could think of.

They'd been waiting to hear from Thor ever since the thunder-god had departed to his own realm. Everyone would sleep easier once they knew for certain that Loki was behind lock and key in Asgard, and Thor would be a welcome addition to the team if he really was back. Not only in the battlefield, either – at least to Steve, it just felt like the Avengers weren't quite the same without the jovial warrior.

Stark's next text was closer to his usual style.

prePS Boy Scout, if you pass by that hot dog stand at the corner, bring me one./pre

Steve didn't honor that with a reply, but he did stop by at the stand, right at the foot of the Avengers' headquarters. He definitely didn't want anyone, least of all Stark, to start thinking he was turning into one of the man's lackeys. On the other hand, Stark had probably stayed up all night tinkering with who knew what, and had replaced breakfast with coffee, or in the best case with one of those weird smoothies. If they had a mission ahead of them, a couple of extra calories wouldn't go amiss.

Unlike he was expecting, when Steve stepped out of the elevator at Stark's workspace, there was no one there but the engineer himself, staring at a dark blue-green image with a hazy purple smudge in the middle. He didn't even turn to look as Steve entered, but just made a vague gesture at the desk next to him.

"Just drop it there."

Right, this ridiculous issue Stark had with being handed things. Steve moved closer swiftly, and stuffed the hot dog into Stark's hand before he could do anything about it. That gained Steve a murderous glare, and no word of thanks – not that he had been expecting any – but at least it caught Stark's attention.

"So, what have we got?" Steve asked, cutting to the chase.

Stark ignored that, took a bite of the hot dog, and made an approving face. "Still surprisingly good. Also, being served a hot dog by Captain America: breakfast doesn't get much more American than that! And what we've got is this," he waved at the screen in front of them with his snack before attacking it again.

From closer up, Steve thought he could make out white ripples in the image. Waves, maybe? A satellite image of a large body of water? It still didn't explain the purple smear in the middle.

"A modern painting?" Steve offered.

"Wouldn't look out of place in my collection, but I think Pepper could tell the difference," Stark replied between mouthfuls. He finished the food quickly, licked his fingers, wiped them on a napkin he'd produced from somewhere, and used a gesture to zoom out the image. A land mass appeared on the left side of it, easily recognizable as the shoreline of the East Coast.

"So. What we've got is a very unusual electrical storm some 500 miles off the coast, which puts it in international waters. Unfortunately, it's difficult to get any proper readings on it, but what I can tell is that it's pretty close to some of the data SHIELD have on our hammer-happy friend."

"If it's Thor, what's he doing in the middle of the Atlantic?"

"He's a demigod and I'm a mere mortal, who am I to tell? A conference with Poseidon? An orgy with mermaids - oh, there's a thought! There might well be a ship or an aircraft in there, but it's impossible to tell with all the interference."

"Is the storm moving?"

"Not at the moment. Its very localized, and its size has remained stable, a couple of miles in diameter. Whatever it is, it doesn't pose an immediate threat to civilians, since all traffic, air and sea, has been directed to safe routes around it. Still, we'd better go and check it out."

"Just you and me? Where's everyone else?"

"Widow and Birdling are off on some secret SHIELD mission, didn't bother to hack the details this time. Banner is off the grid, haven't heard from him since Tuesday. I can appreciate he sometimes needs quality time on his own, what with all those anger management problems. I'm sure the two of us can handle this just fine."

"Fair enough. I'll call SHIELD and ask for a ride, and…"

"Nah, no need to involve Fury and his fan club. I already told them we'd take care of this on our own. They'd probably just grab Thor and bring him in for questioning as soon as they set eyes on him, I'd rather avoid that."

"How am I going to get there, then? Last I checked, their technicians are still working on the quinjet we wrecked on the previous mission, and you haven't even finished the plans for our customized one."

"Well, no, I'm still working on that, but as it happens, and you may have noticed, I've got this suit that can fly, and can easily carry even the considerable bulk of a Super Soldier. If you think riding a Harley is good, let me tell you, that's nothing compared to this!"

* * *

Stark slams the arc reactor back into its housing quite forcefully, and they both start, Stark probably with actual pain, Steve with surprise and sympathy.

"Nothing visibly wrong with it. That's no guarantee, though. I'd need to be able to run some proper diagnostics to be certain," Stark says, winces, and strikes the reactor a couple of times with the heel of his hand. "At least I'm convinced it's not a power output issue, there would be some giveaway flickering to go with that. I assume your supreme senses aren't picking up any unusual fluctuations that a regular baseline human can't catch?"

"No, it looks entirely normal to me, too," Steve replies honestly, because he can't see anything out of the ordinary aside from Stark's obvious discomfort. Not that it's unexpected that Stark's not feeling too hot, he did take a few major hits during the battle. "This is probably a dumb question, but how do you know for sure that there's a problem?"

"I can feel it well enough," Stark replies curtly. He rests his right hand on top of the reactor and the fingers of his left on the pulse point at his neck, and grimaces. "You're welcome to check if you want to. Don't need a medical degree to tell that's not a healthy rhythm."

"I'll take your word for it." That's all the confirmation Steve needs. Stark's been living with the heart issues and the arc reactor for years, he probably knows what he's talking about.

Steve purses his lips. He hates that he's not able to do anything to help, but he's utterly out of his depth. He doesn't know a whole lot about medicine, aside from basic battlefield first aid, and he knows even less about modern technology, let alone something as advanced and unusual as Stark's inventions. The only thing he has to offer is his company.

"Assuming it's not a problem with the device itself, what else could it be?" he prompts, to keep Stark focused on possible solutions.

"If the reactor's output is all right, as it seems to be, then, trying to use small words here, either the power isn't getting to where it's supposed to go, or something's wrong with where it goes – that would be the casing, and all the stuff that actually keeps me going. I do hope that's not where the damage is, because working on the casing out here would be, I don't like to say impossible, but, as close as. Of course, the third alternative is even less appealing."

"What's that, then?"

"That it's not a technical problem but a medical one, and unless you're hiding unexpected talents in experimental heart surgery, our chances of fixing it equal zero, zilch and nada."


	2. Flying

Stark had been right, like he so irritatingly often was. Flying with Iron Man turned out to be every bit as swell as he'd promised. The only thing that put it beneath riding a motorcycle in Steve's book was that he was just a passenger, unable to steer. Well, that, and the fact he was attached to Stark's back. Luckily, the latter wasn't quite as bad as he'd feared.

All through their takeoff from the Tower and the first minutes of their flight over New York he'd been subjected to Stark's usual ceaseless bombardment of jabs that ranged from actually quite witty and funny to downright dreadful. ("Hey, imagine the headlines if the paparazzi capture this on film! 'Love In the Air – Captain America Riding Iron Man! Bromance or romance?'")

Steve had done his best to riposte whenever he could. Unlike many people thought, he didn't mind a bit of banter, but there were limits. A few times he was glad he was wearing goggles and a balaclava on top of his cowl to protect him from the cold winds, so even if Stark had a camera on the back of his head, there was no way he could tell Steve was blushing.

Now that they were over the ocean, though, Stark had mercifully been a lot less talkative. Steve could guess why: the view was mesmerizing, the brilliant blue sky above them without a single cloud, the vast sea below smooth as glass. They were flying quite low, so whenever they passed a vessel of some sort, all details were crystal clear, like looking at perfect miniature models. He was glad he wasn't encased in metal like Stark, because he thoroughly enjoyed feeling the crazily blowing wind and the sun on his back. This was worth every cringe-worthy quip Steve had endured today.

"I may want to do this again some other time," Steve admitted aloud.

"Told you it would be good, didn't I?" Stark's voice was crisp and metallic in Steve's earpiece. "It's not going to last much longer, though. We're closing in on our target."

Steve craned his neck to look straight ahead, and their destination was impossible to miss.

"Whoa, that's not natural!" he breathed.

"Yeah, that much is obvious. Still can't see what's in there."

"If it's Thor, he sure isn't in a good mood."

The view was just as impressive as the perfect seascape, but much more sinister: a bank of dark, stormy clouds, just visible in the horizon, like a hole in the middle of the placid shades of blue.

At first, he couldn't make out any details because they were too far. Massive waves were spreading from the storm front, attenuating gradually as they left it behind. As they got closer to the storm, Steve realized the clouds went down all the way to the surface of the roiling sea. The entire area was enveloped in a mist so thick that it was almost entirely opaque. Every now and then, flashes of lightning flared up inside the mass of fog.

Stark slowed down, and they soared in a wide arc around the freak weather phenomenon. Steve strained his eyes to glean any details he could of what they might be faced with, but it was just too hazy.

"Okay, I'm picking up something, finally," Stark noted, his technology surpassing Steve's sight. "It looks like there's a ship in the middle of it, in the eye of the storm."

"How big?"

"Bigger than any of my yachts, smaller than an aircraft carrier."

"A cargo ship or a cruise liner, maybe?"

"Could be a lot of things, still can't get anything specific. JARVIS is starting to get frustrated with the lack of proper data. Nothing to it but to dive in. Are you ready? It's going to be rough flying in there."

"Ready as I'll ever be."

They'd known to expect the extreme weather. That, plus the relatively long distance, were the reasons why Steve was attached to the Iron Man armor by the harness of the parachute he was carrying - another precaution, just in case. He wasn't going to fall unless the straps broke. Still, when they dove into the churning maelstrom, Steve realized he was clutching the red and gold plates beneath his hands for dear life.

* * *

"Only one way to get a better idea of what's going on. I don't suppose you've got a mirror stashed in your spangled pants?"

"No, and my phone is fried, too," Steve replies, figuring out what Stark is after.

"Of course it is. No self-help selfies to be taken. That means you'll have to be my eyes. Ah, hell, I have no words to describe how much I hate doing this," he says, and takes the reactor out for the second time. "Let alone this," he adds as a breathless afterthought, and sticks his fingers into the empty casing.

All Steve can do is stare, wide-eyed, as Stark fishes around the hole in his chest, and, from God knows where, pulls out a short cable. He connects it to the bottom of the casing and to the detached reactor, which is tightly gripped in his left hand. Only with that done, Stark draws a breath again, though it turns into an unhappy grunt. He presses his knuckles against his chest, 5 o'clock of the casing.

"That didn't fix it, then. Not that I was expecting it to. Let's just hope it doesn't make things worse, either. If I pass out, disconnect the cable and stick the arc back in, you've seen how to do that now, right? Just push and twist."

"Push and twist. Right," Steve says, swallowing and praying silently that it won't come to that. "How long can you go on, if you can't figure out how to mend whatever's wrong?"

"Seeing as I have no idea what that is, your guess is as good as mine. Maybe a couple of hours. Or I might just keel over any minute now. Hence, casing diagnostics. I need you to take a look and tell me if there's anything suspicious in there."

Moving slowly and cautiously to keep their precious raft from tilting too much, Steve shifts to sit in front of Stark, so he can stare right into the silvery emptiness.

* * *

Iron Man was nothing to the storm. No matter how Stark struggled to keep them on course, they kept veering to the sides, buffeted by what had to be hurricane-scale winds. They were making progress nevertheless, moving deeper into the fog. Steve could barely see a thing, just a swirling mass of white and gray all around them. This might be what it'd feel like to fly through a tornado. It was actually a welcome distraction from the daunting weather to hear Stark cheer and whoop every now and then, whenever a particularly violent gust caught them and they rode it for a while before he managed to correct their bearing. It couldn't be too bad, then. Steve had already learned that the time to start worrying was when Stark fell silent.

All of a sudden, they broke into clearer skies: the eye of the storm. Not quite as calm as the perfect day outside, but far less misty and windy. Right in the middle of it, battered by heavy waves, was a cargo ship of some sort.

"Gotcha!" Stark exclaimed. "It's a container ship under, hm, Danish flag, which – that's interesting, it's been out of contact for over a day, last anyone's heard from them was thirty hours ago, nothing unusual, no distress calls. Engines are offline, as is everything else. As far as I can tell, it's anchored in place and just sitting there."

"The lifeboats seem to be gone," Steve noted, looking at the aft of the ship where he would've expected to see the orange shapes. "Might be no one's home."

"Unidentified vessel, this is Iron Man," Stark called out on the comms. "We're approaching your position. Anyone there? Do you need assistance?"

There was no reply that Steve could hear.

"Not a peep on any frequency," Stark confirmed. "Okay. I'm picking up some funky energy signatures, better take a closer look."

"Do you still think it could be Thor?"

"I don't doubt he could cause something like this if he wanted to, but no, I don't, seems too randomly aggressive even for him."

They swooped closer to the ship, close enough that Steve could see his first hunch had been correct: it seemed abandoned, no lifeboats, no one on board, all lights turned off.

A lone figure stood on the deck at the aft of the ship, a roughly man-sized shape blazed in white and violet light – and when they got closer still, an incandescent beam of light lashed towards them, like a bolt of lightning.

"Shit," Stark swore, and swerved sharply to the right, quickly evading the bolt and bringing them to hover behind a wall for cover. "Cap, unclip, now."

Stark needn't have asked. Steve was already on it, quickly finding the releases that detached his harness from the suit and him from Stark. He dropped smoothly onto the deck.

"I have no clue what that is, but it's clearly not Thor, and it's pissed. Better not get hit by one of those bolts. They don't actually read as lighting even if they look like it. Don't know what to make of them. We'd better figure out a way to contain it. Him. Her. Whatever the hell that is."

"You stay in the air, I'll try to sneak closer on the deck," Steve said, as obvious as the plan was, and Stark flew off.

Steve didn't actually need to sneak, he was well protected by the superstructure of the ship. He couldn't see the attacker, and it couldn't see him. The sounds of crashing waves and creaking metal would have covered his footsteps, but he did make an effort to move soundlessly. Who knew what sort of senses their opponent had.

When he reached a corner, he crouched low and took a peek around it. That offered him the first proper view of what they were up against. It was a shifting, almost non-tangible figure, though it did have long, thin arms and legs, and mostly because it was of such slender build and somehow seemed very elegant, Steve labeled it as female in his mind. She didn't resemble any of the fire- or electricity-wielding superpowered individuals Steve had met or read about. She really was beautiful, with the unnaturally colored flames dancing on her – that had to be skin? It didn't look as if she wore any clothes. Her eyes were just two brighter spots amid the glow, and her head seemed bald.

As Steve watched, Iron Man engaged the creature, flying closer, repulsors at ready. He was calling out to her, trying to negotiate, or just to open up a conversation, but she didn't say a thing. Maybe she couldn't speak, or didn't understand. The only reply Stark got was one of those violet-white flashes of lightning, which he dodged, but the second one followed right at its tail, and a third, in such rapid succession that there was barely time for him to react. He got out of the way just in time, and quickly turned around for another go at it.

On the second round, Stark managed to fire a couple of his repulsor blasts at their enemy, but that didn't seem to have much effect. The creature's attack, on the other hand, did. Stark wasn't quite fast enough to evade the volley of lightning, and one of the bolts hit him in the side, another one glancing his head.

The bolts sent Iron Man hurtling through the air, armor enveloped in flickering flames like his attacker's skin. He crashed into a wall, leaving a sizable dent in it.

To his dismay, Steve realized there hadn't been a single sound on the comms.

"Stark? Stark?! You all right? JARVIS?"

There was no response, not even a hiss of static in Steve's ear. Iron Man slid down to the deck of the ship, and landed there heavily, unmoving.


	3. Diving

**Author's Note:** Thank you for all the lovely reviews, sorry I haven't replied to them individually. I do appreciate them very much :) At the moment, this is sort-of the secondary place where I post my fic, I'm more active at AO3, really.

Oh and, just so it doesn't come as a huge surprise to anyone, I've written this as a "Gen / Pre-Slash" thing, so it does have some pretty obvious Steve/Tony subtext, but nothing really happens between them, so you can perfectly well read it as friendship, too.

On to the fic:

* * *

It's just _wrong_ , it almost feels like someone's vivisected Stark and Steve is staring at his exposed innards, even though what he's looking at is entirely technological, just metal and circuitry. He concentrates on that, does his best to ignore the revulsion and horror, and takes a good long look.

The first thing he notices, with no small amount of dismay, is the red smudge on the outer edge of the casing, to his left, Stark's right, spread from where the same color covers the bit of skin visible through the hole cut for the reactor in Stark's undersuit.

"You're bleeding."

"No, I'm not, that's not possible," Stark replies instantly. He tilts his chin down to peer at his chest, and though his tone was dismissive, his eyes have gone wide. When he spots the bloodstain, the tension melts away and his shoulders slump.

"Shit, don't scare me like that, Cap, I've already got palpitations."

"But -"

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing, how can you even say that?"

"Okay, not nothing, but around ninety percent chance that it's entirely superficial and unrelated to whatever's wrong. The casing probably jarred the skin when I got tossed around," Stark says, casual as ever, though Steve thinks he can see the brittleness beneath the façade. Stark wipes at the smudge with his thumb. "Hardly the first time that's happened. On the other hand, if I ever start bleeding through the baseplate, that would be like a ninety-nine percent chance that I'm about to kick the bucket. So, please tell me there's no blood inside the casing."

"Not that I can see, no."

"Wonderful. I may yet live to see another day. What can you see? Anything visibly burned, blackened or out of place?"

"Nothing seems burned, but I really have no idea what it normally looks like, how am I supposed tell if something's out of place?"

"Well, as long as there's nothing sticking ou - oh, ow," Stark falls silent without finishing the sentence. In the fraction of a second, his expression flits from the practiced mask of carelessness to outright fear. He clutches the arc reactor against his chest, next to the casing. He's staring right through Steve, eyes glazed over, breathing in gasps.

Steve's at a loss – what should he do? Stick the reactor back in? Slap Stark's face? Is it his heart, or is he just panicking for some reason? What if Steve makes things worse by trying to help?

"Stark? Talk to me, Tony, what's happening?" Steve asks, but gets no answer.

He makes up his mind and reaches for the reactor, ready to act, but then, just as suddenly, Stark snaps out of it and sits up straight.

"Damn, not good," Stark mutters, panting. "Not good at all. I think it's getting worse."

* * *

If the creature could strike down Iron Man just like that, Steve wasn't convinced he stood a chance against it. But Stark was out for the count and he had to try something. Shield braced in front of him, he stepped into the view of the flame-wreathed being.

"Hey! We don't need to fight, okay? Just call off the storm and return wherever you came from, we'll let you go," he tried, though he wasn't expecting to get anywhere.

Just as with Stark, the being only answered by casting her flame-lightning in Steve's direction. Steve caught it with his shield, and was pleased to learn that unlike Stark's armor, the vibranium actually deflected the beam, though he could feel the shock of the impact reverberate through his arms.

He'd meant to make his way to where Stark was lying, but the creature forced him onto the defensive, only barely able to counter the quick succession of blasts. Plan B, then: he'd lure it away. He started backing off, towards where he'd come from.

The flame-being followed him, and Steve, again, couldn't help but admire her, as deadly as she seemed. She walked gracefully like a dancer, toes barely touching the deck of the ship, and the way her hands were poised for another blast would have been a thing of beauty captured on canvas.

Just before he stepped round the corner he'd been hiding behind earlier, Steve glanced to the side to see how Stark was doing – but he wasn't there anymore. Steve would've though he'd have noticed Iron Man taking off, but he'd been quite preoccupied, maybe he had missed it after all. He could only hope Stark was all right and would rejoin the fight soon with some ace up his sleeve, because Steve didn't stand a chance alone, he couldn't even get close enough to land a single blow.

He did his best to keep the creature's attention, and ended up leading it in a game of hide and seek amidships, over and between containers. A few times, he risked throwing his shield, and that did seem to hurt her, though only enough to make her hesitate for a few seconds. He also received several hits himself, glancing blows that left skin and muscles tingling and burning where the lightning had touched him.

He reached the edge of the stacked containers, and leaped down to the deck, the creature still following but keeping her distance. Almost like a cat toying with her prey, Steve thought. He was heading back towards the aft of the ship now, because that was where he had last seen Stark, and there was still no sign of him. The comms had been eerily quiet ever since he'd gone down. Either he was unconscious, or the suit had taken damage that had cut his communications.

Or, he had been up to something, Steve added as a third alternative, when the engineer made an extremely ill timed reappearance from a heavy door in the wall, exactly halfway between Steve and the creature, without his armor, entirely unprotected.

Another projectile rushed towards them, and Steve shouted, "Stark, watch out!" and rushed forwards, but he could tell right away that he wouldn't make it in time. The bolts were faster than he'd ever be, and he was just too far away.

Stark had just about turned to face the creature, so the blast hit him square in the chest, and the force of it threw him against the half-open door. By the time Steve reached Stark, putting his shield between them and the creature, Stark was on his knees, bent over, both hands pressed against his sternum.

Steve knew from experience that though the hits were painful, they didn't seem to seriously harm flesh and bone - but there was stuff in Stark's chest that wasn't either. Stark had already ditched his suit, which had to mean it had been badly damaged, because otherwise he'd never have done that. Who knew what one of those blasts would do to his arc reactor?

"You still with me, Stark?" Steve said, casting a glance over his shoulder, while also trying to make sure no further bolts would hit them.

"More or less. Would be perfectly fine if you'd been there ten seconds ago," Stark replied, his tone more shaky than snarky. Steve was surprised he hadn't retreated through the doorway as soon as he got the chance, but was still on his knees on the floor. "Anyway, we have to go. Now."

"Yeah, we'd better fall back and regroup, I'm not getting anywhere. I've been playing cat and mouse with her for at least ten minutes, and I'm definitely not the cat."

"No, no, no, we have to get off this ship. Right away."

"Huh, what?"

"The ship is going to blow. In about eight minutes."

"Oh," Steve just said, dumbfounded.

As plans went, it wasn't the most elegant one, but it might well work: if nothing they could do was enough to even slow down the creature, at least blowing up the entire ship should give her pause. Or kill her, possibly. Not a thought Steve was fond of, but they were short on options.

Steve put an arm around Stark's back to pull him up, keeping the shield in his other hand to give them cover. Stark didn't seem entirely steady on his feet, and one of his hands was still hovering protectively over his chest.

"You all right?" Steve asked.

"I've no idea, but there's no time to worry about it," Stark replied. "Let's go."

A few quick steps brought them to the railing. Without stopping, without a moment's hesitation, they climbed over it, and leaped towards the tempestuous waves far below.

* * *

"What, exactly, just happened?"

"A hiccup. Power shortage. I don't get it, this shouldn't be possible. The whole setup is as everything-proof as anything on the planet," Stark says. He hasn't quite regained his earlier casual demeanor. "Sure, the casing is more patchwork than the reactor because it's not detachable and it's difficult to work on in the best of circumstances, but still."

"Sorry I wasn't very helpful in giving it the once-over."

"Ah, well, don't fret about it, I don't think I could tell what's wrong just by looking at it either."

Stark sinks his fingers inside the casing again, probing around. Steve is uncomfortably aware that he's witnessing something very personal that he's sure Stark would never do in front of others, given the choice.

When Stark's expression goes blank and his eyes narrow, Steve worries the device is glitching again, but then Stark's lips curl in a twisted grin.

"You've got to be kidding me, no way it's that simple! Does feel better, though. The angle just isn't quite right... Ah, Steve?"

The way Stark says his first name takes Steve by surprise - not Cap, not some ridiculous nickname, not a hint of the usual sarcastic side notes, a little hesitant, and almost pleading. It gives Steve an entirely unexpected, foreboding feeling of concern.

"Would you say you've got bigger hands than me? Longer fingers?" Stark asks, and holds out the hand he was poking at the reactor housing with, palm outwards, fingers spread.

"Probably, yeah, they're pretty big."

Steve puts his palm against Stark's, matching their positions. Steve's fingers are nearly an inch longer.

"I'm not going to like where this is going, am I?" Steve says.


	4. Swimming

Steve fought his way back to the surface. The water was freezing cold, the waves tall, and his costume had definitely not been designed with swimming in mind. Good thing vibranium was so light, that meant the shield on his back didn't make things that much worse. He tried to make sense of his surroundings. That was the side of the ship, close behind. He saw no trace of the white-violet lightning. The creature had let them go and hadn't followed them.

"Stark?" Steve called out, trying to spot the engineer.

A few seconds later, Stark broke the surface, just a couple of feet away from Steve, coughing and spluttering.

"Stark! Over here!"

Stark turned to face Steve, treading water. At least his undersuit looked like it might provide him with some buoyancy.

"We should try to get as far as we can," Stark shouted, and started swimming away from the ship.

With a few quick strokes, Steve was by Stark's side, and they started making their way towards the bank of fog and even stormier waters beyond the relative calm around the ship. Luckily, the waves were moving in a direction that pushed them away from the ship, because swimming against the current would've been well nigh impossible.

Steve was, of course, the stronger swimmer of the two of them, and although his gear was worse, he was making headway. Stark seemed to be struggling, slowing down instead of keeping a steady pace, stopping entirely every now and then. Steve couldn't tell if it was just because the conditions were about the worst he could imagine, or because Stark was injured.

Steve stopped, waited for Stark to catch up, and shouted, "Can you manage?"

"Can't go any faster, not feeling great," Stark replied, out of breath and looking queasy. "But we need to keep moving, about two minutes before the fireworks start. As soon as you hear something go off, dive."

"Okay. Moving on, then," Steve said, but now, he purposely swam slower, close to Stark, constantly keeping an eye on him.

They still weren't all that far from the ship when a low rumble broke the monotonous howling of waves and wind. Steve waited to make sure Stark had heard it and gone under, and followed suit.

* * *

"You should feel honored! Pepper's the only one who's not me who's ever put a finger in there. And you'll have it easy compared to her, it's not that bad now, the current design means there's no icky plasmic discharge to deal with."

Steve doesn't understand what that means, but he certainly isn't feeling honored, he's horrified, not to mention horribly worried he'll somehow end up making things worse. Still, if Stark thinks Steve might be able to help, of course he's going to try.

"What do you need me to do?"

Stark puts his hand inside the casing, like it was before. "See where my fingers are? Just where the cable connects to the baseplate. I can't keep them in the exact correct position for long, it should be easier for you. Just place your fingers around the connector and push. Aim straight into my chest, and then to your left. Oh, and if I go all PTSD on you, never mind, just keep up the pressure."

"If you what?"

"Ah, panic, basically? As I said, it's not often that someone else goes poking at the reactor, it's slightly threatening, you know, what with my life depending on it and all. It's not that I don't trust you, I do, more than myself, really. You're probably every bit as trustworthy as Pepper, which is the highest compliment I can give, and can we get this over with, before you get second thoughts? Or me, because I'm already starting to think this might not be the best of ideas."

"Okay, okay," Steve says, planting his left hand firmly on Stark's shoulder. "You're rambling, Stark, focus, it'll be fine. Just stay with me and make sure I get it right."

"Yeah, I'm very focused on the fact that you'll be sticking your fingers inside my chest. Okay. I'm going to let go now."

Stark pulls his fingers out, but keeps his hand close, resting it next to the casing.

Steve moves his hand over and stops, fingers hovering just above the cavity.

"Uh, should I have washed my hands first or something? And what if I hurt you?"

"Steve! Just do it," Stark barks. His left hand, the one still holding the reactor, is shaking badly.

Steve takes a deep breath and plunges his fingers in, carefully slotting them around the cable - there's not a whole lot of space for his large hand in the casing. He reaches the bottom, places his fingertips where he saw Stark's earlier, and pushes gently, well aware that he's strong enough to cause damage if he's not careful. The metal is warm against his fingers, its hard surface uneven.

Stark stares at him with a deer in the headlights look, like he's barely holding himself together, and the fingers of his right hand find their way around Steve's left forearm, squeezing it tightly enough to bruise.

"Not quite there yet, remember, straight and left, you need to push harder, don't worry, not going to hurt me," Stark says hurriedly.

Steve does as he's told, and the effect is almost instantaneous. All the tension drains out of Stark, and he lets out a relieved groan that Steve can only describe as obscene.

"Ooooh, oh, wow, that is so much better, feels entirely normal, actually. Ah. Regular circulation to the brain is an amazing and wonderful thing."

"Pleased to hear that, now what?" Steve asks, far from comfortable with this forced intimacy. He has to vary the pressure ever so slightly with each breath Stark takes to keep it even, and in the spaces between, he can feel the reverberations of a perfectly steady heartbeat through the metal casing.

"Now you stay there and don't move an inch until we get rescued."

"Stark…"

"Can't you drop the surname thing already? This has to qualify for first name basis, seeing as you've got your fingers in my ho-"

"No. No, you don't get to make that joke. Seriously, Stark. Tony. Shut up," Steve interrupts before the engineer manages to finish the sentence. He's probably blushing furiously, and Stark, no, _Tony_ , is actually laughing, damn him, his ribcage shaking with it, making Steve's job even more difficult.

"You can't say it's not funny, though. Anyway, being entirely serious about it, sorry, but this is the way it's got to be until I get to my shop. It seems like a fairly simple issue with the connections, but I can't fix it here, working blind and without even the most basic tools. So, until we're there, your perfect all-American Super Soldier fingers are the jury rig that's going to keep me alive."

* * *

Even underwater, Steve could hear the deep rumble of the explosion, and feel the power of it, a fearfully strong current pushing him away from its epicenter. As soon as it had passed, debris began raining down, heavy pieces of hull and containers sinking towards the depths. Steve made his way up, careful to avoid the wreckage.

On the surface, the landscape had been entirely transformed. The earlier wall of storm clouds seemed more transparent, already starting to clear, and the ship had split in two, what remained of the stern and bow slowly sinking. There were pieces of deformed metal and other debris floating here and there.

One could say many things about Stark, but he did know how to make things blow up. Steve was still genuinely surprised Stark had sacrificed his suit to set it up, even if it had been damaged. Another example to prove Steve's early misgivings wrong. Stark was definitely more than just the suit.

Speaking of Stark - Steve scanned the surroundings and quickly spotted him a few hundred feet away. He was slowly making his way towards Steve, but he looked like he could barely stay afloat, a slightly panicked expression on his face.

Steve swam over to Stark's side, took his shield and placed it on the water. Its shape and material meant that it floated extremely well, almost like a lifebuoy.

"You're not serious. I don't need that," Stark said. It would've been more convincing if he hadn't ended it by gulping a mouthful of water, which he struggled to expel.

Stark grabbed the shield, and didn't say another thing about it. Neither did Steve.

There was no solid ground anywhere within hundreds of miles, and what remained of the container ship was going under in front of their eyes. The only thing they could do was to keep swimming, or rather, Steve kept kicking with his feet, one hand on the shield, and Stark just clung to it, looking like he might pass out any second.

The life raft was a godsend. Steve almost cheered aloud when he realized what the floating white cylinder was, and saw that against all odds, it was perfectly intact. They found the pull cord to activate the inflation mechanism, and thank heavens it worked, the sturdy raft with its orange canopy miraculously emerging from its container. Steve helped Stark board it. Judging from how he collapsed to the floor, Steve could tell he wouldn't have lasted much longer in the open water.

* * *

And here they are, now, their entire world consisting of the little safe haven the raft creates in the middle of the vast empty ocean. They have no way to contact anyone - Stark no longer has his suit, and one of the lightning blasts killed Steve's phone. Traffic has been rerouted to avoid the freak storm, so no ships will be passing by, and since Tony told SHIELD the Avengers would deal with this on their own, it might be hours before anyone starts worrying about them. Even after that, rescuers could have a hard time locating the raft among the wreckage, which is rapidly spreading wider thanks to the still quite strong winds. And Tony is barely functioning without Steve's fingers inside the arc reactor housing. Of all the messy situations Steve has been in, this rates pretty high.


	5. Rafting

"So," Steve says, looking into Tony's eyes to distract himself from where his fingers are.

Tony's eyes are very big and brown, and the slight frown that was constantly there ever since he took that hit to the chest has finally vanished. It's amazing how much healthier he looks than just a minute ago, and it's a strange thought that's all thanks to the hand that Steve is trying very hard not to think about, but clearly just can't ignore, the feel beneath his fingers a disconcerting combination of technological and biological, living and machine. There's probably less than an inch of metal between his fingertips and Tony's heart.

"So," Tony repeats, facing Steve's gaze with a slightly nervous smirk. "As much as I'm enjoying this, it's a temporary measure that won't work indefinitely. Waiting for SHIELD to come looking for us might take too long. We need to figure out a way to guide help to us."

Clearly, Tony's head is working better, too, now that his heart is fixed. Steve is glad about that, because if there's one person who can reason their way out of this pickle, that's Tony Stark.

"Do you have a plan?" Steve asks.

"First, we'll need to do an inventory of what I've got to work with, then I can tell what's plausible. You've got your SHIELD issue communicator, right?"

"Yeah, but I already told you, the blast from that creature did something to it, it won't even turn on," Steve says, digs the phone from his belt, and places it on the floor. He puts the earpiece down next to it.

"Considering what those blasts did to my suit and to me, that's no surprise. It's still the most useful thing we've got, something to start from. I can scavenge a few components out of my undersuit, but a knife would help with that. Or anything sharp, really."

"There might be a knife in the raft's emergency pack, I saw that when we came in, right at the doorway. I'll - um." Steve glances at his hand. The pack is a few feet too far for him to reach when he's glued to Tony's chest.

"Just fetch it. You can let go for half a minute, it should be fine," Tony says.

Steve lets go, although it feels awful to do so. It's as if he's been stemming a massive bleed and now he's just going to let it flow. It's like he's giving up on Tony.

As quickly as he can, Steve scuttles to the doorway to grab the pack. It's clipped to the raft's side, and he needs a few seconds to figure out how to detach it.

"Ah, shit, no, no, no… " Tony groans behind his back.

Steve rips the pack off its clasps, turns around, and leaps back to Tony's side, the raft rocking alarmingly. Tony is hunched over, looking desperate. He's got his fingers in the casing, but it doesn't seem to be helping at all. Steve takes hold of Tony's hand with his left, guiding it gently out of the way. Tony just stares at him with the same distressed expression Steve has already seen too many times today.

Steve puts his fingers in and pushes carefully at the baseplate, just like before. Tony draws a long, relieved breath and straightens up.

"Damn, that was bad. I just couldn't get the angle right, no matter what. Damn. Let's not repeat that," Tony says shakily. Steve can feel slight tremors run through him, his chest heaving as he struggles to even out his breathing. They're obviously way past the point where Tony could even try to pretend to be casual about what's going on.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to let go again," Steve says, feeling guilty for having done so in the first place.

"You'd better not, unless you'd like to be stuck here on your own. It seems that while what you're doing is helping, it may also have made things a bit worse. I literally can't live without you anymore. Lovely. At least we know that now. So, what have we got here?" he asks, nodding towards the emergency pack.

They're both down to one hand, since Tony's still holding the arc reactor in his left. Steve starts going through the contents of the pack with his free hand, passing the more promising items to Tony.

"Well, here's a knife for you, and scissors. And flares. Maybe we should fire a few?" Steve suggests as he hands them over.

"I doubt they'd be visible far enough when all traffic has been rerouted to give this area a wide berth. Better save them for later when it's more likely that someone's looking for us. What else?"

"Hah, anti-seasickness tablets and sick bags, and a first aid kit."

"Yay, a Band-Aid and a seasickness pill will patch me up good as new. Not. Anything even remotely electronic in there?"

"A flashlight and some spare batteries and light bulbs."

"Now we're talking!"

"That's all there is, though. The rest is only going to be useful if we're stuck here for a longer time. Like water and rations and a fishing kit."

"Oh, well. It's not optimal, but I think I can make this work with what we've got."

"What're you going to do?"

"Fix your phone and send a signal so that SHIELD will come pick us up. I'm going to need both hands, which means you'll need to take this," Tony says, and holds out his left hand, with the arc reactor resting on his palm.

This feels every bit as momentous as putting his fingers inside the casing did, if not more. Tony is offering Steve the thing that has kept him alive for years, and he's doing it without hesitation, not a hint of doubt on his face – if it wasn't for the giveaway rapid throb beneath Steve's fingers, he'd have no idea how unnerved Tony really is.

Heeding the connecting cable, Steve takes hold of the reactor, which fits perfectly in his hand when he curls his fingers around it.

"All right, my life is in your hands, twice," Tony says solemnly. "I do hope you're not secretly harboring murderous intentions."

"I'll keep you safe, no matter what," Steve declares, and somehow, he knows that's a promise he'll hold on to for years to come.

"I know you will. Otherwise I'd be on the verge of a panic attack right about now. Or, you know, even closer to the verge than I'm now. We're just skirting that verge ever so slightly, nothing to worry about. Right. Great. All right, let's see..." Tony picks up the knife, and starts cutting open the left leg of his undersuit to pull out some wires.

"Is there anything I can do?" Steve asks.

"Unless the serum enables you to grow a third hand, not really. You're doing plenty as it is."

Once he's finished cannibalizing his undersuit, Tony moves on to split Steve's phone in two. Steve just concentrates on keeping his hands in position. It's not easy all the time, with Tony moving around, often without any warning. A few times, Steve isn't quite fast enough and the pressure loosens a little, but although his own heart skips a few beats whenever that happens, Tony doesn't even seem to notice. It's fascinating to watch him at work, oblivious to what's around him. The few words he mutters every now and then are mostly unintelligible to Steve.

It must be several hours before Tony stops and lets his hands rest on his thighs. What he's put together looks like an entirely haphazard collection of spare parts, with the phone barely recognizable without its screen.

"Hm, I'm not going to get enough juice out of a flashlight's batteries to reach a satellite. I'll have to use the arc for that," Tony notes.

"Should you? Is that safe?"

"Perfectly, it's actually not damaged at all."

"How do we do it?"

"Just hold it out so I can connect this."

Steve lifts up his hand with the reactor safely nested in it. The cable connecting it to Tony's chest is so short that he can't move it very far.

Tony picks up his makeshift transmitter and connects a wire from it into a tiny port in the side of the reactor that Steve hadn't even noticed. Steve is keeping a very close eye on both Tony and the reactor, but the only things that change are a small light that lights up on the transmitter, and the victorious smile on Tony's lips.

"And we're online! All right, then," Tony says, and pries up a tiny microphone from his transmitter. When he speaks again, it's in his most official voice. "JARVIS, if you can catch this, and you should, because I know it works and you're always listening: protocol Sierra Alfa Romeo three, effective immediately. Triangulate on this position if possible, if not, use the last known coordinates of the electrical storm. Tell SHIELD to come pick us up, asap. We're on an orange life raft, drifting. I repeat, JARVIS, protocol S, A, R, three, right now, life raft close to the position of the electrical storm. JARVIS. Sierra Alfa Romeo three. Hurry."

As soon as he's finished talking, Tony unplugs the transmitter and drops it rather carelessly to the floor. "That's that," he says, suddenly sounding bone tired. "It's done, and so am I."

Tony slumps forwards, and it's all Steve can do to move to catch Tony's head on his shoulder.

"Tony? Are you all right? What's wrong?" Steve asks, alarmed. The arc reactor seems to be glowing as brightly as ever, and the heartbeat beneath the casing is unchanged as far as Steve can tell, maybe just a little slower than before.

"I'm good, I just feel like taking a nap," Tony mumbles into Steve's neck. "Narrowly missing cardiac arrest half a dozen times within the space of a few hours is kind of taxing."

Steve realizes to his dismay that Tony's skin feels quite cool where their faces touch. His undersuit is still damp from their earlier swim, and he's even shivering a little. "Are you cold?" Steve asks.

"Well, it's not exactly balmy in here."

Tony's right, of course, it's not warm at all on their raft. Steve just tolerates extreme temperatures so well these days that he's not paid any heed to it. He gets an unexpected urge to wrap his arms around Tony and pull him close for warmth, but obviously, he can't move his hands. "Uh, you can, you know, just rest against me, I'm quite warm," he says hesitantly.

Tony clearly has no reservations. He puts an arm around Steve's back and snuggles, that's the only word Steve can use, as close as he possibly can with Steve's hands between them. Then he just rests there, quiet, his breathing slow and regular next to Steve's ear.

Of course, Steve can't sleep himself. His fingers are starting to feel a little numb from being stuck in the same position for so long, but he doesn't mind. He's promised to keep Tony safe, and that's what he's going to do.


	6. Napping

Time has ceased to exist in their little world. There's nothing but the two of them, Tony dozing off against Steve's shoulder, waves rocking the raft gently. Their constant swoosh is soothing now, not threatening like during the storm.

Steve's not entirely sure if he should let Tony sleep, but really, there isn't much else to do. Besides, Tony doesn't actually seem hypothermic, and Steve is very aware of Tony's vital signs whether he wants to or not. He would notice the slightest change in the cadence of soft breaths against his neck and the heartbeat beneath his half-numb fingers. Steve is wide awake himself, though he feels like he's slipped into some kind of a trance. At one point, he even realizes he's subconsciously synchronized his breathing to Tony's.

It's such a ridiculous thought that it was just this morning when Steve ran to the Tower to take up a simple recon mission at sea. It can't have been mere hours, it must have been years ago. They're not Cap and Stark, the annoying genius inventor anymore, they're just Steve and Tony, the brilliant but right now very fragile man who's trusted Steve with his life. For all the antagonism between them, Steve would never have guessed the amount of trust Tony has for him, and he can't say it doesn't affect the way he regards Tony. Though in all honesty, Steve is certain that once they're home again, things will soon be back to status quo.

If someone asked, Steve couldn't even begin to guess how long they spend like this. Assuming Tony's message got passed from JARVIS to SHIELD almost instantaneously, Steve would think it'd still take them at least an hour or two to get here. A lot less or a lot more time may have passed when Steve hears the recognizable thrum of Quinjet engines somewhere in the distance.

He nudges Tony's head with his. "Tony, wake up, they're here!"

"Hmmm, not yet," Tony mumbles sleepily, and tries to bury his face deeper into Steve's shoulder.

"Tony. SHIELD is here, we should fire a flare so they can locate us."

"Huh, what?" Tony seems to get at least some of that. His head shoots up, and his expression goes from sleepy to shocked in a beat when he takes in Steve's hands, one in his chest, one holding the arc reactor. Tony makes a twitchy movement towards backing away from Steve, but instantly seems to think the better of it, and just freezes in his place.

"It's fine, the casing got damaged, remember? We're on a life raft, adrift at sea, but help is just minutes away."

Tony lifts his eyes to meet Steve's, and in a few more seconds, he's fully awake, anxiety giving way to a sharp, alert expression.

"Right, yes. SHIELD. Flares. They're right here." Tony picks one up, and tilts his head towards the doorway. "Let's get over there."

Moving very carefully and awkwardly, they cover the few feet to the opening in the raft's side, and Tony points and fires a bright red emergency flare into the clear blue sky. It's certainly impossible to miss.

Soon, there's a Quinjet hovering by the doorway, its ramp open to welcome them in. A SHIELD agent Steve doesn't recognize stands at its end, offering her hand.

"Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark, I hope you're all right? We came as soon as we got the call from your AI."

"We'll be fine," Steve says, but looking at the step from the raft to the ramp makes him anxious. It's not a huge gap, but they will have to cross it one at a time. Steve will have to let go, at least for a little while, and the thought is horrifying. He can't possibly let go, the one time he did it earlier was bad enough. Tony's going to be in serious trouble in less than a minute without him.

Tony, obviously, sees the issue as well, and gives Steve a steady, calculating look. "Only one thing to it. I think I can make it across on my own. Just stay close and catch me when I crash, right?"

When, not if, Tony's saying, and Steve notes he's once again doing that thing where he seems blasé, but really, if you know him - and happen to have your fingers pressed against his heart - you can tell he's terrified.

"Right. Ready?" Steve asks.

"As I'll ever be."

Steve hands the arc reactor back to Tony, and retracts his fingers from the casing. Tony reaches to grip the SHIELD agent's hand and climbs onto the ramp. Steve follows as close as he can, careful not to destabilize the raft. In a way, it feels a little nostalgic to leave it behind, their little island of safety in the middle of hostile territory.

Tony almost makes it all the way up. Almost, but not quite: just a foot or two before he's actually inside the aircraft, he stumbles and collapses. Steve isn't quick enough to intervene before the SHIELD people grab Tony, pulling him in and setting him on his back on a cot. Steve knows they're not going to be able to help him, because they won't have a clue what the problem is. He rushes to Tony's side and quite roughly shoves away a SHIELD medic, who's already got his fingers on Tony's carotid and a very concerned frown on his face.

For a passing second, Steve wonders whether he might need to do something differently because Tony's lying down instead of sitting up, and what the heck they're going to do if this doesn't work, but luckily, those questions don't need answering. Steve quickly checks that the cable is still connected to the reactor, and puts his fingers back inside the casing. As soon as they're in place, he can feel one tentative beat beneath them, then another, spaced so far apart he's holding his breath waiting for the next one, before that familiar rhythm picks up, and Tony's eyes fly open.

"About time," Tony says breathlessly. "That was way too close for comfort."

"I know, I was as fast as I could," Steve says apologetically.

"Would any of you care to explain what's going on?" the SHIELD medic Steve elbowed away asks, staring at the two of them, eyes round with confusion.

"Nothing much," Tony says nonchalantly. "As long as the good Captain here keeps holding me together I'm perfectly fine."

"That was as far from fine as you can possibly get!" the medic exclaims. "And I'm not exaggerating here, I actually thought I lost your pulse!"

"Yeah, but I got better," Tony declares. He sits up slowly, using Steve's shoulder for support. He does look more than a little washed out, but he goes on to say, "All I need is a ride home and a few hours of quality time in my shop."

"Mr. Stark, seriously, where you need to be is a proper medical facility, you're very obviously not all right."

"If you must pick nits, sure, I've seen healthier days, but this is a technical problem no one else can solve. And no, you're not getting any details, you don't have the security clearance."

"He's telling you the truth," Steve puts in, knowing full well the weight Captain America's word tends to have. "You can check with Director Fury if you want to, just mention it's Stark and it's arc reactor related, he'll confirm that whatever Stark says, goes."

"Very well, then," the medic says, and heads to the cockpit, either to call Fury or just to give the pilot their new coordinates.

"How come they listen to you but not to me?" Tony grumbles.

"Because I'm older? Or because I talk less?" Steve suggests.

"Technically, you're not older than me, and I don't talk that much. I just happen to have many valuable opinions that others could benefit from."

A minute later, the medic returns, apparently convinced. "Okay, we're on our way to the Avengers Tower. It's still almost an hour away, though, so in the meantime, I'd at least like to examine you properly, Mr. Stark."

"I'm all yours. Couldn't escape if I wanted to," Tony says, nodding towards his chest. "Just don't get between Cap and me, that would be extremely bad for my health."

The medic puts Tony through the regular battery of tests, listening to his chest and back, checking his blood pressure and oxygen levels, and shining a penlight into his eyes. Steve is amazed at how placid Tony is all through it. He understands the uncharacteristic behavior later, after the medic announces, openly surprised, that Tony was telling the truth and seems perfectly stable for the time being, and retreats to give them some space.

"To be entirely honest with you, and I think you deserve that," Tony says in a low voice, "I actually had no idea what he'd conclude."

Steve raises his eyebrows, taken aback. "But you told him you're fine."

"Uh-uh, to make sure we get home without an additional layover at SHIELD medical. With all this as messed up as it is," Tony waves a hand at his chest, "I can't be certain about anything. Especially not on a day like today."

"I backed you up because I thought you were telling the truth!"

"Actually, I never said to you that I'm okay, just to the SHIELD guy. You've been with me all day, you know I'm not exactly the picture of perfect health. Anyway, I now have the official seal of approval from a SHIELD medic, which spares me the trouble of having to turn up for a check-up later."

"Tony! That was a quick once-over by a field medic, it's in no way the same thing as a full workup, and I'm pretty sure you're due one after this."

"Ugh, you're starting to sound like Pepper, and not in a good way. I'll worry about doctor's appointments later. Before anything else, I'd like to regain some independence and freedom of movement. And I assume you'd like your hand back."

The rest of the flight goes by uneventfully. Eventually, they touch down on the Tower's landing pad, and find themselves with yet another logistical challenge to solve. Steve is sure as hell not going to let go again, which means they'll have to cover the distance to Tony's shop as they are, close together.

They stand up, still facing one another. Tony doesn't quite manage to project his usual charismatic presence, dressed in an undersuit with one leg and both sleeves sliced open, his hair frizzled by salty seawater, and the arc reactor out of its casing, held against his chest with a hand that covers its usual glow.

Steve takes a few steps to the side, thinking that he'll be able to maintain contact while facing forwards, but Tony draws a loud sharp breath and quickly says, "No, no, get back, that changes the angle, you need to stay in front of me. You can walk backwards."

"Why do I have to walk backwards, you're the one who needs support," Steve complains, but returns to his earlier position.

"You don't know where we're going."

"I would if you told me."

"Let's not do this now. Backwards, march, soldier!"

They start moving slowly down the ramp, Steve reversing, Tony keeping a hand on his shoulder to push him in the right direction. Steve makes a salute at the SHIELD personnel, who are staring at their odd progress with a variety of bemused looks.

"Thanks for the ride," Steve tells them.

"Call us if you need anything," the medic they argued with earlier says. "Oh, and the Director will want your full report on what happened as soon as you've dealt with the, uh, technical problem."

"I'll see to it that he gets it."

"I trust that you will, Captain. And good luck."


	7. Fixing

They make their way slowly across the loft, Tony's free hand on Steve's shoulder, Steve walking backwards, taking utmost care to keep his fingers steady inside the arc reactor casing. It's about as awkward as anything can be. Tony is moving a little faster than Steve, and steps on his toes a few times. It reminds Steve of the first times he went dancing, except he's supposed to play the part of the dame, just following Tony's lead. Not something he's used to.

Steve thought they'd be headed to the large open lab area close by, but instead, Tony guides them verbally and with directing touches towards the elevator.

"Two more steps, there, through the doorway, and we're in."

As the doors slide shut, a disembodied voice greets them: "Welcome back, sir, Captain."

"JARVIS! Just the AI I need," Tony replies cheerfully.

"Your private workshop, I presume?"

"That would be correct."

They move down a couple of floors, to one that Steve hasn't visited before. The doors open to reveal a workshop that's not very different from the one above, just even less tidy, pieces of broken or half-finished red and gold things cluttered here and there.

"I must congratulate you on the most creative use of available resources up to date, sir," JARVIS comments as they step out of the elevator. Since they haven't turned around, Tony's now walking backwards, but he still has the lead.

"Why, thank you, J. I do take pride in my ability to improvise under duress. Steve, that way," Tony says, and nods over his left shoulder.

At the corner of the shop that Tony's pointing to rests what looks very much like a dentist's chair. It doesn't take complicated reasoning to work out that this is where he deals with arc reactor related things, and it's not surprising it's not placed in his other workspace for everyone to see.

Tony settles down on the chair, and starts pulling out wires from behind an armrest. He connects one to the reactor, another to the side of the casing, and cuts open the front of his undersuit so he can stick heart monitor leads to his chest, which he does far more routinely than anyone who's not a medical professional has any right to. Steve can't help but wonder how often Tony's been down here, alone, doing this after a mission without the rest of the team even realizing he might not be okay. Before today, Steve certainly hadn't fully appreciated how dependent Tony is on that constantly glowing blue circle.

"All right, JARVIS, full diagnostics. No stone unturned. I need to know what's going on," Tony says.

"Very well, sir."

"Um, should I stop?" Steve asks hesitantly, aiming a pointed glance at his hand, still firmly embedded in the casing.

"No, absolutely not, not before I tell you to. And the less we move, the less artifacts JARVIS will have to compensate for. Won't take more than five minutes."

"Can you actually stay still and quiet for a whole five minutes?"

"Yes, if my life depends on it, and right now it sort of does, so, shush." Tony leans his head against the headrest, and closes his eyes.

For the next few minutes, they just wait, listening to the low background hum of air conditioning and computers and whatever other machinery is running in the workshop. It's almost reminiscent of the raft, except that Steve is standing up, he knows Tony's not asleep, and they're not nearly as close to one another, Steve's fingers their only point of contact.

"I have now finished turning the proverbial stones, sir," JARVIS breaks the quiet.

"Excellent. Show me."

The air next to them lights up with a complicated floating diagram of circuitry that clearly represents the reactor and the casing. Most of it is in blue or green, but some parts around the middle of the casing stand out bright red.

Tony stares at the image with a deep frown, and zooms in on the red bits. He blanches as he takes it in. Steve can feel the thumping beneath his fingers speed up a notch.

"Holy shit, JARVIS, are you seeing this?"

"Indeed I am, sir. It seems you were quite lucky with your improvised solution."

"Yeah, it actually shouldn't have worked like it did. Jesus, that really was just dumb luck. I had no idea. No wonder it was so dependent on the angle. By all accounts, I shouldn't even be alive anymore!"

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Steve asks warily.

"Um, just that there's a little more damage than I thought, but it happens to be located so that pushing at a very specific angle causes a short circuit that sort of goes around it. Not a good solution in the long term, bound to cause even more damage. Already did, in fact, that's why you couldn't let go."

"Can you fix it?"

"Sure I can, just need to replace some wiring. Piece of cake. J, do you think you can emulate what Cap is doing?"

"Of course, although I strongly recommend rerouting power as soon as possible to prevent further harm."

"That's the next item on my list. But first, good news for you, Steve," Tony says. He pulls a robotic arm from somewhere behind the chair, and brings it close to the casing. "Now would be the time when you can let go for good."

"Right now?" Steve asks, feeling that familiar pang of concern at the thought of leaving Tony in trouble.

"Yes. This time, I promise it'll be fine, JARVIS will take over."

"All right then," Steve says, and pulls his fingers out for the third and hopefully final time. The robotic arm moves in with a soft buzz. Tony looks a little apprehensive as it settles inside the casing, but then relaxes and smiles.

"How's that, sir?"

"Spot on. Keep it up."

Now that his hand is finally free, sharp pins and needles stab at Steve's fingers. He flexes them, opening and closing his fist. He's pretty sure he's never held his hand so steadily in one position for such a long time. He can only imagine how much worse it would've been without his enhanced physique.

Tony reaches to grab Steve's hand, and brings it to his lips to press a light kiss on Steve's knuckles. It's a perfectly chaste gesture, but Tony being Tony, he still somehow makes it seem suggestive - something to do with the glance that goes with it. Steve feels his face heat up.

"Poor, heroic fingers," Tony says. "There are worse places to be, of course, but that can't have been easy. Did an excellent job keeping me alive. Now, for a more permanent solution..."

He spends a while studying the holographic diagram, adding notes to it, and calls up another display that shows a magnified view of the casing in his chest, like a mirror. Then, he stands up to rummage through nearby drawers. The robotic replacement for Steve's hand follows his movements seamlessly as he collects his tools and materials and sits down again.

"Here's what I'm going to do. First, a very quick and dirty temporary fix. Will have to go offline for that, should have just enough time to finish it. That'll give me room to make the repairs properly, without any extra appendages in the way."

Tony pulls up a tray, and arranges a few things on it. It barely seems like enough to mend anything, just bits of wire, some tools and a small soldering iron.

"You better hold on to that," he says, and offers the arc reactor to Steve again. "If something goes wrong, JARVIS will tell you what to do."

He doesn't give Steve time to protest, but promptly goes on to disengage the robotic hand and to unplug the reactor entirely. Steve stares at it, resting on his hand, no longer attached to Tony. Somehow, that's a lot more disturbing than it should be, like holding a limb that has been cut off.

Tony pries something open in the baseplate and starts working, hands surprisingly steady. Steve watches, and thinks it's as if he's witnessing someone perform surgery on themselves, although he can't see much with Tony's hands and tools blocking the view. It's incredible that Tony can manage to work at all in such a limited space - his fingers may be shorter than Steve's, but his hands aren't exactly tiny.

It hasn't even been a minute when an alarm goes off, startling Steve out of his introspection. He looks up from Tony's chest, and realizes it's the heart monitor, which has been discretely on mute until now. Steve doesn't need to understand the details to figure out that the loud wail and the flashing warnings are not a good sign. He very nearly panics, then, which is something he's usually not prone to do.

"JARVIS? What do I do? How can I help?" he asks the room around him.

"Nothing, Steve! Stand down!" Tony commands, and now that Steve looks at his face, even though his complexion has gone a disconcerting shade of gray, his eyes are still alert. "Ten seconds," he adds.

Steve crosses his arms and waits.

Tony squints at his displays, adjusts something with hands that no longer seem entirely steady, keeps them in place for several seconds, and finally lets them drop to his sides. The soldering iron he was holding falls neatly into the awaiting robotic hand.

"Arc reactor, now," Tony demands urgently. Steve gives it to him, and he hastily connects it to the casing with the cable.

The alarm fades out, and they're left in silence broken only by Tony panting like he's just finished a decent jog. Color is slowly returning to his face.

"Well, that was fun," Tony comments breezily.

"No, it really wasn't!" Steve declares.

"I must agree with Captain Rogers, sir," JARVIS says. "Unless you are using the word 'fun' in some sense that is missing from all my dictionaries."

"Oh, JARVIS, you disappoint me!" Tony groans. "Try looking under 'irony'? I can understand Cap has problems grasping the concept because it probably hadn't been invented in the forties, but I programmed you better than this!"

"That wasn't irony, you just like flirting with danger and freaking people out," Steve mutters.

Tony ignores that and says, "Anyway, the job is only half done, and the rest of it will be boring, with barely any risk of sudden death."

"You still need my help?"

"Nah, not really, you can saunter off if you've got somewhere better to be." Beneath the dismissive tone, it very much sounds like he'd prefer Steve to stay.

It would be the perfect time to head to the kitchen and pick up something to eat, maybe a coffee for Tony, but Steve can't find it in himself to leave. He makes his way to the nearest chair and settles down, in a very strange frame of mind. He stares at his fingers, and can still feel a vague echo of them firmly pressed against the baseplate – he almost misses having that constant touch to assure him that Tony's all right. He tries to relax. He's spent most of the day in various stages of concern for Tony, ranging from the overwhelming fear that he's dying there and then, right in front of Steve's eyes, to the constant gnawing worry that he won't last long enough to make it back. It's difficult to convince himself that it's all in the past, or will be, as soon as Tony's finished his repairs.

Tony certainly seems much more at ease as he works, poking at the reactor housing, chatting with JARVIS, zooming in and out of his diagrams with lively gestures. Just once, whatever he's doing produces a bleep of alarm and a warning "Sir!" from JARVIS, but he just goes "Oops?", shrugs, and keeps at it.

It takes a few minutes for Steve to wind down again after that. So, despite his continued efforts at not worrying, Steve is still a little edgy when Tony removes all additional bits and pieces from the casing, does away with the cable connected to the arc reactor, and pushes the reactor into its proper place, finally making his chest whole again.

"Ah, there we go!" Tony announces happily. He studies all the readouts for a minute, and clearly satisfied with what he sees, disconnects all the monitoring wires. Then he stands up, stretching his arms. "All better now. And if we ever run into whatever the hell that lightning thing was again, it can shoot as many bolts at me as it likes, not going to cause any damage." He raps at the arc reactor, looking very pleased with himself. "I should send them a thank you note, really. Revealed a weakness that I hadn't realized was there."

Steve gets up as well, walks over, and looks from Tony's face to the arc reactor suspiciously. "You're a hundred percent sure it's all fixed?"

"Yes. Trust me, worrywart, I know these things."

"But Tony, you -"

"J, a little support here?"

"According to all available metrics, you are functioning within normal parameters, sir. There is no need for further concern, Captain Rogers," JARVIS declares. That's probably the most impartial, objective opinion Steve can get, coming from an artificial intelligence – except it's an AI programmed by Tony.

"Okay, I'm happy to hear that," Steve says, but obviously still fails to appear entirely convinced, because the next thing Tony does, he grabs Steve's hand and presses it tightly against his chest, half over bare skin, half over the reactor.

"There, feel it? Ticking away like nothing ever happened. All thanks to you, of course. Without you, I'd be dead several times over. I'm glad I didn't go alone, I did consider doing that at first."

The strong, steady heartbeat under Steve's hand is almost as familiar as his own by now, and yes, it's a thousand times more reassuring than any words could ever be.

"I'm glad I was there," Steve says earnestly. "And if anything like this ever happens again, you can always count on me."

"Excellent, any fingers, toes or other body parts that I need for an engineering project, I'll know who to ask," Tony quips, and lifts his hand from Steve's. "Also, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell the others about this. I know it's priceless, as stories go, but…"

First, Steve finds that a little surprising, because a tale of the two of them marooned and stuck together with Steve's fingers inside Tony's chest is the sort of thing he'd expect Tony to tell with relish, but then, it does paint him as far more vulnerable than most people ever see him. Steve can appreciate he'd rather keep it between the two of them.

"Fury wants a full report," Steve reminds Tony. "Of course, we can make it a strictly classified one. Wouldn't want anyone to know you actually do have a heart beneath all that metal," he pats Tony's chest lightly.

"You know, you're not even the first person in the world to make that observation. You should ask Pepper about it one of these days. But, anyways, now that we're finally convinced I'm not about to flatline anytime in the near future, how about we celebrate with pizza? I'm starving!"

* * *

 **Epilogue: Pizza**

Tony and Steve have finished the pizzas and are working on filling any remaining gaps with ice cream when agents Barton and Romanov storm into the room, taking running steps. They clearly haven't even stopped to shower and change after whatever covert mission they've been on, and they look more than a little surprised as they take in the scene, cozy as it is.

"Sorry, we didn't know when to expect you back so we only ordered for ourselves, and there's no leftovers," Steve tells them.

"So, you're both all right, then," Barton says. His eyes flit from Steve to Tony, and linger noticeably on the glow of the arc reactor, just visible through Tony's t-shirt.

"We came as soon as we could, Fury told us there'd been some kind of an incident," Romanov says.

"Nah, barely worth mentioning," Tony replies dismissively.

"Oh, come on, what happened?" Barton prompts. "The way Fury said it, it must've been pretty serious, I actually saw his eyebrow twitch."

Steve casts a sideways glance at Tony, who just shrugs, a vague smile on lips.

"Well, first, I went jogging," Steve begins.

"And then I took him on a flight," Tony adds.

"Then we dived to go swimming in the sea."

"We also did some sailing. Or rafting. Sort of. Then, I got tired and had a nap."

"And when Tony woke up, we came home and he fixed some stuff."

"And Steve helped. After all this, we were really hungry, and decided to have pizza," Tony finishes, motioning at the table in front of them.

"And that's it?" Romanov says incredulously.

"That's it," Steve says.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** And that's it for the story, thank you for reading, hope you had as much fun as I had when writing it! :)


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